


The White Hair Problem

by Astray



Category: Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Crackfic!, I Am Not Even Sorry, I am going to hell in a handbasket for this, M/M, Tybalt's hair, based on the French 2010 production, obviously rumour is wrong, rumour has it, specifically Tybalt's white hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tybalt did not always have white strands of hair. However, no one knows how or why, and so, people began to talk. All the while, Mercutio listens to them, assessing their accuracy. Tybalt is obviously not very happy with it, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The White Hair Problem

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this came up after watching the French production, and my brain decided to quit at Tom Ross' haircut. And this story just sprang to life.

The matter of Tybalt’s white hair appearance was subject to speculation and soon, Verona was buzzing with tales of how he could possibly change his looks.  
Some said it was because he worried so much about his younger cousin,m and they would not have been so wrong. Any man who ever tried to approach Juliet Capulet would end up with a hug from the father and a split lip courtesy of the nephew. Rumour has it that Tybalt was, indeed, pining for the lady, but was too much of a gentleman to give in. In Verona, not everyone would care so much. Though quite a many gossipmongers wanted to believe that indeed, Tybalt did not step back out of honour, but simply because he was afraid his uncle would kick him to the curb.  
People who knew Tybalt, Mercutio amongst them, dismissed it as just that – rumours. The kind you threw at the Prince of Cats to piss him off, but never really meaning it.   
Some other said it was in a fight, against a man so strong that he practically left Tybalt with a split skull. And instead, the wound exposed his skull, and when his hair grew, it grew white as a reminder of his own rashness. Some other said, it was not a giant who did it, but a man with a sword, aiming at his throat but only managing to maim – Tybalt’s swordsmanship was excellent, if conceited, and no one truly believed that he could have died anyway. Though Tybalt was known as someone who would die by the sword, and only by the sword.   
This one always had the most success – only Mercutio would laugh at it. He would laugh, and pun away on swords, and Tybalt, and how it could pierce a Prince right through and other delicacies no one ever listened to, except Tybalt, who vowed to take his revenge.  
Another rumour, less known, as it touched the higher matter of nobility, had it that it was indeed Lord Capulet who, once angry at his nephew, chased him from the house. And that, after a run in the forest without looking where he was going, Tybalt nearly fell off a cliff, and only managed to survive by falling on a rocky platform that barely stood out. Lord Capulet’s temper was not to be trifled with, and the Montagues encouraged that rumour, as it discredited their enemies.   
Benvolio would shake his head, never explaining why. He would look at Mercutio, who suddenly paled. As though he had seen a ghost.   
Some other said, rather confidentially, and keeping close to the redlight district, that Tybalt did not get his white hair in a fight or because of something equally traumatizing. Those people softly spoke of a lover, a lady who would have, in an embrace so passionate, torn out strands from the Prince of Cats’ hair, and it would have grown back white. This, however, was rarely ever given credit to, because while Tybalt was rumoured to be a fighter of Venus just as of Bellona, no one knew of his lovers. Some would laugh and say that it could never have been the work of a lady anyway. And this would silence all rumours, as the gossips would stare in dread for fear they were heard.   
At this rumour, Mercutio would smile, and saunter away, not even seeing that Tybalt was nearby and cringing and seething. And cursing the idiot who ever felt the need to boast under cover of anonymity.


End file.
